So Pretty
by Litt
Summary: So proud, so sleepy, so red. So pretty...


"So Pretty"  
  
By: Litt  
  
Dec 16, 03  
  
Disclaimer: Jo.  
  
Summary: So proud, so sleepy, so red. So pretty.  
  
An: After reading a story featuring an insane, blonde Slyterin, I was inspired to write one myself. Painfully out of context I'm afraid, but it made sense to me for a while. There will be lots of confusion I'm sure, since I'm too lazy to explain how all this is actually connected; take it as an AU. There's even an excerpt from another story I'm working on in the beginning: sadly, it won't show up in italics. Take that also as AU.  
  
Starring a psycho OC, various members of the Weasley clan, sanely challenged inner voices/alter egos, a shattered trio and many, many old "friendships". Rated PG13 for language and mature themes. Only loosely based on "Noodles".  
  
~~  
  
' "Face it, Love, you miss your old friend Tom." He said in his sickeningly familiar voice, such a sweet poison of its own; so confident she'd believe him this time. She wanted to jerk away from his hand when he swept a strand of hair out of the way ( a gesture that would've seemed almost gentle had it been someone else), she wanted to tear the skin off where his spidery fingers had come into contact, leaving icy trails in their wake. But she couldn't and wouldn't give him that pleasure of watching her kill herself over it again. Not this time.  
  
With his previous words in mind she mustered up what defiance was left in her and hissed, "My old friend died a long time ago."  
  
This, like so much now, didn't seem to perturb him; in fact, it amused him. He smiled again, pale lips not quite reaching his violently red eyes, -- eyes she remembered looked so different on a human face. He waved the rebuke off as if the news meant nothing to him, shrugging. "Yes, well, pity that." ' ~ Ruddy Reunions  
  
"Lie like an Angel and tell the Devils own truth." ~ CC  
  
~~  
  
Devils are pretty if you think Tom's an angel. The Dragon was a devil, so white and warm. So red when he let the sharpness in his tummy; so red the stuff that came out. Red, bright red. Such a pretty picture he made.such a picture. So wrong in its sweetness, so wrong.  
  
What have I done, what have I done? Oh, God, what did I do?  
  
Storm cloud eyes are wide now, like galleons, and the devils sweet mouth is saying "O", but I don't hear it. I can't hear anything but the "Yea!"s, "Yes!"'s, and the "Yeah!"'s. But someone's screaming, yelling lies at me; that I'm killing him, that thing, get it out! She's lying. He's just tired that's all; that's all the beautiful Demon is doing. I'm helping him sleep. Just tired, uh huh. Bushy-Brown is always yelling now, an angry little bee with long hair, Green-Glasses isn't happy at his gift. Killing me with his eyes he is. Why isn't he happy? -Tom said I was going to make him happy.Sharpy is so wet now, so warm. Warm with red, not white.  
  
Ohmygosh,ohmygosh,ohmygosh.  
  
Red is like spider-silk, it is. Crawling and reaching and soaking; dripping sticky webs from my fingers. I let the devil fall, he'll be comfy in the squishy bed of red and green: he's so sleepy now. Close your eyes, Dragon. Why won't you close your eyes?  
  
No.No, no, no!  
  
The red is shiny --oh so shiny, oh so pretty-on him. So pretty on white skin which isn't so warm anymore. So pretty on my clothes. So sticky on my tongue, yeah, it's gotten on my tongue. It's everywhere now, the red. Made the green blades squishy, mud all thick and bubbly and the sword isn't thirsty anymore. It's all pretty-like on him though, 'cause it burns my skin and fire isn't nice like ice. Ice will burn but it won't scar, it keeps all the bugs and birds away,-- the awful sun wont hurt you. Not like his eyes, all staring. All wide. Yes it burns, mixing with the clear from my eyes, which are stinging too. He tells me not to cry.  
  
I'm not crying,  
  
--I want to tell him. I'm happy I brought the red out of him, so easy with Sali's sharpness. So easy.  
  
It's not supposed to end like this, this wasn't supposed to happen!  
  
What was supposed to happen then? We didn't come here on accident did we, Miss. I- Know-It-All; fell in this place so cold and dark we did not! But that voice, she wont stop; she doesn't know either, if she did she'd hush. She wouldn't cry and say "Noo." Wouldn't ask questions. No, He wouldn't like that. You might have my head hurting, but I can scream the loudest!- There, knew you'd agree with me sooner or never. Voice has finally said something worth all its whining, all its sadness.  
  
Than it's not happening; this isn't real.  
  
It's wrong! She's screaming. So wrong, I agree, and so pretty. Salty, sweet and wrong, but red, so it's all right. It'll all be ok: Tom told me so. But I don't like what it did to the white devil. The red is staining the warmness. It's killing it.  
  
He's dying. -I killed him.  
  
He danced around my sharpness; didn't want to touch it, didn't want to hurt me neither he said. Clangs and whirly silver, music and sparks won't go ugly. (Can't be wrong.)  
  
--Can't loose him, can't slip up.  
  
--Have to win, have to dance with my partner 'til we drop. Dragon fell from the sky and stopped saying those things, things he wanted me to remember, and the yells started. Yells, yes, there were lots from the big circle of friends, but they're quiet now. All staring with masks and no eyes.  
  
"He's yours, girl! I'm giving you this chance to prove what you said; take it. Prove what you are: one of us! Kill him, he's yours."  
  
Coach yells and whispers louder and rustier than the crowd. They're my fans, you know; my adoring clappers. I'm famous now, they all know my name, and like it so much they say it over and over again. Louder and louder, over and over.  
  
"Divi, Divi, Divi, DIVI!."  
  
But it's one of the angry ones, one of the captives that I hear. One sharp scream full of chalk and blood. Hear it, I do, between the whispers and a chant I don't recognize. This word they say I want to answer to, but it doesn't belong to me. My friends are saying the one that belongs to me: keeps me going than stopping, yep. Don't have to listen to those four, no, they're not mine. Devil, yes, he is mine, as the Angel swore; and I'm to be his queen. Belong, we do, in this circle of yells. That word hanging on our halo, our horns, hanging so it wont fall. For dear, dear, sweet life.  
  
"'MY!"  
  
Devil said that too once, that someone was someone else's. Punched him for it too, for calling me "Mine". I smiled; they cheered for the game we'd played. Tom is so proud. Smiling as he said he would: smiling just for me. Standing over the "useless whelp." who'd lost, beautiful beast. He's happy, not like the boy who so looked like him as he was; like a mirror they would've been if Tommy hadn't left: if he hadn't changed. But Dragon is resting, so I try not to me too loud-everyone else is so quiet, I can hear the whispering, the screaming-too loud in my happiness. I just wish she'd stop yelling, she'll wake him up.  
  
"You b----! You killed him-he's dead because of you and--!"  
  
So proud, so sleepy, so red.so pretty.  
  
"Welcome back, Love, I knew you were faithful."  
  
Nasty. So ugly and nasty and white my old friend is. Not like my devil whose white is all gone, but not like my Tom, my older friend, either. Both had been so handsome in their pale warmth, he just looks cold. Cold and slimy and freezing and cutting, not like his apple-eyes: so big, red and pretty. So wrong. Not the inky blue anymore. Not my Tom, no, he 'ever liked red much.  
  
But I didn't mean to.Never. Never...  
  
He hurts, you know, when he helps me away from the red to the green grass where it's ugly, harsh. Too real. Too far from the Dragons warm breath, too clear and open. But it's the red staining the three of us that hurts, not the feeling he whispers isn't real. Not the voice. Not her, she's quiet as the dead now. Last she said was to look at what I had, what I'd done. Crying, she'd promised she'd get help. Don't die on me.  
  
Don't go.  
  
Looking at him on the ground, gurgling and splashing the red, I decide he was suffering from a second win. He'd lost the first one you know. My beautiful glass figurine all smashed, smushy and broken. Such a pretty site, my art; not like the puddles of red on 'Morts face, so small. They won't spill their bright wine, the angel wont let them drip and I decide I don't like the togetherness of the snaky person. I've lost a lot in my masterpiece, all the rivers and cracks and plains of color so natural. Because he's gone now. Sleeping.  
  
' "May I have this dance, fair lady of Slytherin?.Oh, no special occasion, and, the honor is all mine." '  
  
Green-eyes' glasses have broken; bushy is quiet, leaking salty tears; and the carrots were chopped up some time ago, so the spud is quite scared. I asked Spud, before the games, if she cared, and she said no. Told me all about my Tom. About what a trouble my present had caused her and what liars they both were. Wouldn't answer me when I asked what my notebook had to do with it and how she came about it, how she came to our secret spot underground. Wouldn't say anything useful or truthful, Spud. Nothing at all. -Red didn't look so pretty on her head, no, it wasn't sticky enough.  
  
He made me. I did it for you.  
  
A secret, our hushes; scared and shivered-up Spud was. A secret, shh.  
  
"He made the same promises to me, Div. I'm telling you this so you'll know, he'll break them just the same to you if you let him; don't let it go that far. You'll do things you regret in the end, I know--"  
  
Liar, Spud. Such a bad liar.  
  
Don't do it. Don't listen. You can fight him, we've done it before.  
  
Pant's on fire, just like those carrot brothers of yours. Just like them in the pot, just as tasty. Red, the color I can taste now, --Tom's wiping it off now. But it's itchy still, and it always does, those stinging stains the color leaves. It always stings. Such an ugly thing to kill such a pretty beast. Such an angel. -Agg, enough with the yelling!  
  
"You bastard! You swore you'd not touch them, you swore!"  
  
Green-eyes is mad now. So mad. I wonder why?  
  
"Ah, but I didn't now, did I? You've got to learn to play your cards better next time, boy, if you plan on any more of these high-risk games. None the less, I've gotten a great consolation prize."  
  
A hug, so wrong, so itchy, from this stranger I know so well.  
  
An award? For me?  
  
Roar, Green. Roar like the lion they say you've become. You're hairy main, that voice booming my head, but the glasses are gone and green like grass is on fire. And your nails!-No lion, just a kitty; a mad kitty. What is it Bushy? Why do you look at me like that? Does it hurt you so much to see me happy that you cry? Answer! I wish you'd talk louder though, I can barely hear you.  
  
"You loved him. Don't remember that?"  
  
Spud agrees, Greeny too. Luci, bad daddy to nod with eyes, bad to be on their side! Are all these people against my new painting now too? No, He's on my side. Such an ugly white to hold such pretty eyes.  
  
" 'Love'?"  
  
I laugh too; he's so funny.  
  
"She doesn't love anyone but her master, isn't that right, Div? Isn't it true?"  
  
And angry, apple eyes are staring -always staring-and I think of an answer. Such an important question and no where to run. Hide from those awful eyeballs. No where.  
  
Love? Such a silly word, Riddle, you said so yourself. Master.funny word. Div-'My-remember. Remember; try to remember prettier times. Try to recall him, yes, that M-word guy. Try...  
  
Remember a time when red and green and white were everywhere, a real pretty view from a castle and a warm hug in secret. A face now all pale and patched that had looked at me so. Remember what we'd said in that dark no one had looked for us in, knowing already where we'd hide.  
  
' "I don't see why we have to meet in this broom closet, I mean, there's a perfectly empty room down the hall. Perfect view of the snow and those idiotic Gryffindors making fools of themselves." '  
  
Not much noticing the green or black of it so covered up and buried in red and gold and pine trees. He smelled like pine trees, the one I'm remembering. Trying harder I am for he's staring at me so.  
  
'"Awful choice in décor, eh? The color scheme is all off, --and look: more red than green and more 'gold' than silver! Biased-"'  
  
So buried in smiles and green were we then, no one had noticed those hugs, stolen smiles. Cold and happy and white, the time was. The time I was claimed by my master. Found my master, the one who tugged on my hair like a spring and smiled at our joke. Found what I'd been looking for, I have. I remember a claim, a word and an ouchy, and I'm sure I'd always been his.  
  
' "Mine.Oww!" '  
  
I nod, because he's so red. And he was so pretty.  
  
~*Fin*~ 


End file.
